


we can take it if you just take my hand

by suzukiblu



Series: baby I'm not like the rest [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Darcy Lewis, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe, Darcy Lewis can't lose, F/M, Fantasy Gender Roles, Fuck Yeah Female Alphas, M/M, Morning After, Multi, Omega Bucky Barnes, Polyamory, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Ant-Man (2015)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzukiblu/pseuds/suzukiblu
Summary: It’s probably kind of weird to ask out an omega when you’re naked in a cell together and your ex-datemate’s on the door and superheroes are probably still watching on the cameras, but Darcy’s tempted.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, offscreen James "Bucky" Barnes/Ian Boothby
Series: baby I'm not like the rest [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745422
Comments: 69
Kudos: 800





	we can take it if you just take my hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [untamedphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/untamedphoenix/gifts).



> Written for iread78, who wanted a sequel to/the aftermath of the last story.

Barnes’s heat isn’t a long one, in the end; it doesn’t even last a full twenty-four hours, at least not according to Darcy’s very low-battery phone. Admittedly he might’ve been a little bit in heat already when they’d shown up, so that kinda makes sense. 

Darcy watches Barnes sit up in the terrible little cell bed and stretch, arms up in the air over his head and naked spine a very pretty sight. She kind of wants to massage his shoulders or something; it still seems like the metal arm would be pretty rough on his muscles. At least, she’d be _really_ surprised if it wasn’t. 

“Is your shoulder okay?” she asks, and Barnes hums, rolling his shoulders. 

“Fine,” he says, then gives her an amused look. “You’re not that rough.” 

“Oh, very funny,” Darcy says, making a face at him. “ _I_ am gonna be sore for days, for the record.” 

“Mm, promise?” Barnes raises an eyebrow at her. Considering what a fucking _marathon_ satisfying an omega super-soldier amounts to . . . 

“Yes,” Darcy says, pushing herself up too. They’re both naked, for obvious reasons, and she can’t help looking him over again. Not her fault he’s gorgeous and right there, is it? She doesn’t touch him, though, because he doesn’t smell like heat anymore and the cinnamon-sugar sweetness of his pheromones is muted and sated, and Barnes only agreed to the heat partnering, not anything else. 

He smells more like her and Ian’s pheromones than his own right now, actually, which makes sense since they’ve both been all over him and alpha pheromones can get pretty strong. Plus, like—two of them, and all. 

It _really_ makes her want to touch him, for the record. 

It’s probably kind of weird to ask out an omega when you’re naked in a cell together and your ex-datemate’s on the door and superheroes are probably still watching on the cameras, but Darcy’s tempted. Unfortunately, other things probably take priority, like getting a shower and taking out her contacts and also reassuring Steve Rogers that they took good care of his best friend, which she’s _almost_ positive they did. At least, Barnes smells like they did, and he looks languid and relaxed, so that’s all a good sign. 

She’d kind of wondered if he was _capable_ of relaxing when they’d first met him, all things considered, but turns out taking a knot enough times definitely did the trick there, so that’s nice. 

“I’m starving,” Barnes says musingly. Since they didn’t bring heat snacks, that would make sense. Sam Wilson dropped off water and granola bars and fruit at the end of the hall last night but granola and fruit is only so helpful, really. Especially with a super-soldier appetite to contend with. 

“Yeah, me too,” Darcy agrees, tugging a hand through her tangled hair. “Also, kinda filthy-gross. Are there showers somewhere down here?” 

“Somewhere, yeah,” Barnes says, looking around distractedly. “Shower, then food?” 

“Sounds good,” Darcy says, glancing towards the cell door. “Ian?” 

“Yes please,” he says, leaning around the corner. He’s dressed, unlike them, but only mostly; he’s barefoot and his jacket and sweater are off. His hair’s a mess, but probably not as bad as Darcy’s feels. 

“Awesome,” she says, and then she and Barnes get dressed and Ian puts on his shoes again and tucks his jacket and sweater under his arm, and they grab their go-bags and Barnes shows them to the showers, which are basically locker room showers but at least have separate stalls. Not that they haven’t all very intimately seen each other naked at this point, but . . . well, okay, so it doesn’t really matter. It does give Darcy a minute to just kind of zone out, at least. 

That was . . . a _lot_ , was all that. Like, seriously. A lot. 

Pretty fucking nice, though. 

Barnes is done first, which is the opposite of a surprise, and Darcy basically walks out of the shower and right into him, which she is not gonna complain about but is like walking into a very attractive brick wall. 

“Agh,” she says. 

“Sorry,” he says. He offers her a towel. 

“All good, man,” Darcy says, taking the towel. She wonders who does the laundry around here. It’s hard to picture Black Widow doing the sheets but it’s also hard to picture the Avengers letting laypeople into their semi-secret base, so . . . yeah, who knows. 

She dries off and gets dressed in clean clothes and puts on her glasses, and Ian gets ready too. Barnes already is, though she has no idea where he got the clothes seeing as he didn’t bring any spares from the cell. Who knows, again. He’s pulled his hair back, which gives a very nice view of his very nice face, and he’s still wearing the pearl and silver bracelets even after his shower, which Darcy is just _all_ about. Just . . . so many kinds of about. Seriously. 

“Food?” Barnes says, and Darcy’s stomach rumbles, which answers _that_ question. They head back upstairs in a much more direct path than the one they took to get down here to begin with, she can’t help but notice. She wonders what’s up with that, but not enough to ask. 

There’s a kitchen and a common room, or at least a room Darcy’s assuming is a common room, if not the same common room as yesterday, and Barnes makes them sit down at the kitchen counter and raids the fridge and pantry. He comes back with a bowl of fruit, unsubtly, and by the time Darcy’s made her slightly ravenous way through an apple and Ian’s gotten through a pear, Barnes is halfway through making pancake batter, which is . . . adorable, actually, and something else she is all about. 

“You’re adorable,” Darcy says, because of course people just _say_ that kind of thing to hundred year-old super-soldier POWs; of course they do. Barnes gives her a dubious look. “What, don’t look at me like that, you are. Back me up here, Ian.” 

“Er,” Ian says, flushing in anxious embarrassment. 

“Whatever,” Barnes snorts at them, and goes back to the pancakes. Darcy watches him cook, because it lets her check him out and also smells really good, like, she is very much looking forward to these pancakes. Even more-so when he pulls out the bacon, which: yes. 

It’s all delicious, it turns out. Admittedly pancakes and bacon is kinda hard to fuck up, but Darcy’s seen it done and she’s kind of wooed anyway. Okay, damn, they _must_ have done something right. 

“This is really good,” she says as they eat, and Barnes just shrugs. His plate was twice as full as theirs and he’s already most of the way through it. She’s kind of wondering what he’s going to do after this, so . . . “Sooo . . . what are you doing after this?” 

“Going to the gym,” Barnes says. “I haven’t been in two days.” 

“Yeah, that’s such a long time to skip,” Darcy says wryly, as someone who hasn’t been to the gym in two _months_. Probably longer, honestly. Look, an intern’s work is never done, okay? 

She probably needs to call Jane, come to think of it. They never actually told her about all this. 

Whoops. 

“Um, did you text Jane?” she asks Ian, pulling out her phone to check her messages. She hadn’t thought to when she’d woken up, with Barnes in the other half of the bed. “Because I did not, like. At all.” 

“I did,” Ian says. “Er. Well, she texted _me_ , but I texted back. She said something about a meteor shower?” 

“Oh yeah,” Darcy remembers. They were supposed to, like . . . record that or something. Or at least watch it. “Is that tonight?” 

“Yes,” Ian says. “She said it was okay if we weren’t back in time, but, uh, I assume . . .” 

“Probably a safe assumption,” Darcy says around a mouthful of pancake. It’s still pretty early in the day, and Barnes is clearly not interested in an extended afterglow to this heat. She’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be going to the _gym_ if he were. Although, better safe than sorry, so: “Do you want us to stick around for a bit, Sergeant?” 

Barnes gives her a strange look, like he can’t imagine why she’d ask the question. Darcy sort of hates other alphas, if he was really just expecting “wham bam thank you ma’am” and done. Or maybe he just isn’t the affectionate type and thinks she’s weird; that is also a possible possibility. 

“You don’t have to,” he says. Darcy squints at him doubtfully. 

“Not actually what I asked?” she says. “I said _want_ , not ‘need’.” 

“Mm,” Barnes says, expression flickering indecisively. It makes him look extremely kissable, but so does pretty much everything he does, so Darcy isn’t surprised. 

“We could,” she says. Normally people _do_ spend more than an hour or so together after a heat. “Jane already said she doesn’t need us, so it’s not like we’re in a rush or anything. Also I kinda want seconds, is there more batter?” 

“Not really,” Barnes says. “I can make more, though.” 

“I mean, if you _insist_ ,” Darcy says magnanimously. “And Ian and I can clean up after. Uh, if you tell us where the cleaning up stuff is, anyway.” 

Barnes snorts, but he gets up and makes more pancakes while they watch him. She’s pretty sure he wants more too judging by the size of the batch he turns out, and is proven immediately correct as soon as he comes back with the fresh stack and they all start divvying it up. 

“Um, thank you,” Ian says. 

“Thanks, yeah,” Darcy agrees, then proceeds to steal the last pancake out from under Ian’s fork and put it on Barnes’ plate. The recently heated-up omega definitely deserves the last pancake, she thinks. Ian was probably going to give it to him anyway, but Ian looked nervous and she’s very good at being not-nervous when other people are, it’s like, a gift. A talent. A calling, one might even say. “So how’re you feeling?” 

“. . . fine,” Barnes says, giving her a blank look at the question. Darcy raises her eyebrows at him. 

“No qualifiers on that?” she says. “Additional information, maybe?” 

“No,” he says. 

“Okay,” she says with a shrug, because what, she’s gonna hound him about it? She eats her pancakes, and so do Barnes and Ian. It is not actually the weirdest breakfast of her life. It’s not even the weirdest breakfast of her pre-Thor life. 

Ian collects the empty plates, and Darcy fills up the sink and scrubs the dishes while he wipes down the table and counters and Barnes watches them in idle bemusement, like nobody ever does the dishes for him or something. 

It’s probably been like seventy years since he had a normal post-heat breakfast, actually, so maybe that’s it. 

Ergh. Unpleasant thought there. 

“Well, that’s done,” Darcy says as she dries her hands, and then they end up not in the gym, but in the little adjacent common room, her and Ian on the couch and Barnes sitting stiffly in the armchair. He’s a little more uptight without a brainful of heat pheromones, big surprise. 

Which is a shame, honestly, because he looks like he could use some petting and Darcy would be happy to provide some. 

“You look like someone’s about to chase you up a tree,” she says, because she’s an honest person, okay, and Barnes gives her one of those blank looks that she’s really growing to dislike the sight of. She gets the reasons behind them, obviously, but it’s those reasons that she actually dislikes, not the look itself—just, what it means. 

She wishes he still smelled like them. That’d be nice. 

Also, that total lack of their pheromones on him doesn’t make her feel any less like petting him. 

“I’m fine,” Barnes says. 

“I mean, there’s fine and there’s _fine_ ,” Darcy says. 

“Darcy,” Ian says, looking pained. Okay, maybe she’s being pushy. But that’s kind of who she is as a person. 

“Sorry,” she says. “Well, not really sorry, but I feel like I should pretend to be? Honestly I’d rather be scenting you than anything else, at this point.” 

“I don’t want to have sex right now,” Barnes says. 

“I was more thinking I could brush your hair or something?” Darcy says. “Of course I say this like I have a brush on me, wait, no, there’s one in my go-bag, duh me.” 

Barnes just looks at her. Ian visibly suffers. Darcy is not gonna apologize for being, well, _Darcy_. 

“It’s cool if you’re not into it,” she says, resting her chin in her hand. “Obviously. I just like doing things like that for people.” 

“You do that for all your partners after a heat?” Barnes asks. 

“Or a rut. Well, usually alphas keep their hair too short to spend much time on it, but yeah,” Darcy says with a shrug. “If they’re into it. Also usually there’s more, like . . . cuddling? Which I don’t blame you for avoiding or anything, I’m just telling you how I roll.” 

“We really don’t have to cuddle,” Ian says nervously, twisting his fingers together. “Not that we _wouldn’t_ , of course, just . . . er . . .” 

Barnes laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“You bring courting gifts and you wanna _cuddle_ ,” he says. “Are you even real?” 

“Yes?” Darcy says doubtfully, sharing a puzzled look with Ian, who doesn’t look any less puzzled himself. 

“Nobody’s done that for me since the forties,” Barnes says. “Nobody _should_ do that for me.” 

“I mean. We’re willing, obviously,” Darcy says, sort of hating HYDRA for all the obvious reasons, but mostly for that “should”. “If that was, like, too subtle?” 

“It wasn’t,” Barnes says dryly. 

“We’re, um . . . not good at subtle,” Ian says apologetically. 

“I _do_ still have that brush,” Darcy offers, giving her bag a light kick. “Promise I’m good with it.” 

Barnes snorts, then unfolds from his stiff seat in the chair and stands up. Darcy’s pulse kicks up a little, because he’s gorgeous even doing something as simple as standing up and also because she _thinks_ that means—yeah, yup, he’s coming over. Okay. Well, chalk that up to one of the greatest victories of her life, she decides immediately. Barnes looks down at them for a long moment, then turns his back on them and sits down on the floor between them, folding his arms. Even though they’re both the opposite of combat-trained and probably couldn’t kill him with a rocket launcher, Darcy feels weirdly _trusted_. 

She picks up her bag and fishes out the brush and holds it up, even though Barnes isn’t actually looking. 

“Ian or me?” she asks. 

“You can do it,” Barnes says, still not looking back at her. Darcy hums happily; Ian looks a bit relieved. Well, he’s got more of a survival instinct than she does, and also more anxiety. 

“Gonna touch your hair, then,” she says, then strokes a hand over it carefully before pulling out the tie. Barnes doesn’t tense, which is _definitely_ one of the greatest victories of her life. “Actually, wow, it’s much nicer than I was expecting? No offense, just the whole . . . seventy years as a POW thing. I was kind of assuming more split ends would be involved. Texture issues. You know.” 

“Super-soldier,” Barnes says with a shrug. “Apparently split ends aren’t a thing anymore.” 

“Okay, well, gonna die of jealousy now,” Darcy says, drawing the brush through his slightly damp and very nice hair. “Seriously, do you even use conditioner?” 

“Not in this century,” Barnes says. 

“I am definitely gonna die of jealousy,” Darcy says. Barnes snorts. 

“Well, there’s worse side effects to being a lab rat,” he says, and Darcy laughs. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” she says. “Seriously, can I like . . . braid this? I would really like to braid this.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Barnes says, which is not technically a “no”. Darcy grins and pulls the brush through his hair again. 

“Cool, tell me when you decide,” she says, and then settles into careful brushing, doing her damnedest not to tug at any knots or tangles. Ian watches; Barnes is just quiet. She can’t see his face from here, which is kinda a shame. She’d like to. Still, this is pretty nice. 

She keeps brushing even after all the knots and tangles are gone, for obvious reasons, and Barnes keeps letting her. It’s _really_ nice, actually, and she’s about to say so when Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson walk into the room. They both stop, looking startled. Ian gives a little wave and Barnes grunts in acknowledgement. 

“Yo,” Darcy greets, still brushing Barnes’s hair. 

“Huh,” Sam says. 

“Did everything . . . go okay?” Steve Rogers asks carefully. 

“Dude, weren’t you watching?” Darcy raises an eyebrow at him. “I mean, _somebody_ was, did they not update you?” 

“Dr. Cho and I watched,” Sam says, which Darcy files away under “very intimate things Avengers/Avengers affiliates now know about me”. “And the Black Widow, for a while.” 

_Jesus_. 

“It went fine,” Barnes says dismissively. 

“Good,” Steve Rogers says, a flash of relief crossing his face. “I’m glad to hear it.” 

Barnes grunts again instead of actually replying, and Darcy runs her fingers through his hair before following with the brush. He’s really sweet, she’s starting to notice. Well, she’s had a full heat and some afterglow to notice things about Barnes, so she’d better have picked up on some stuff by now. 

“And you two?” Sam says, looking at her and Ian. 

“I’m exhausted,” Darcy says frankly. “But I didn’t, like, trip any old mind control triggers or throw my back out or anything, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“ _I_ almost threw my back out,” Ian mutters, and Barnes chuckles under his breath. Sam tilts his head, and Steve Rogers gets a weird look on his face like maybe he hasn’t heard that sound in a while, which Darcy is gonna bet he hasn’t. 

“There were two of us, we handled it,” she says breezily, still content to keep brushing for as long as Barnes wants to sit still for it. Again: it makes her feel trusted, and she likes the feeling. “Though again, I am sleeping like a rock tonight. Possibly also tomorrow night, who knows, the future is a mystery.” 

“We did, uh, handle it,” Ian says, folding his hands in his lap anxiously. 

“What’d you do with the flowers?” Barnes asks, and Steve Rogers looks surprised by the question. 

“I put them in water,” he says. “They’re in your room.” 

“Oh, thank God, I’m so glad you don’t actually sleep in the cells,” Darcy says. “Because that was terrible, for the record, I was seriously concerned about that.” 

“Needed to be somewhere they could lock down if something went wrong,” Barnes says with a tight little shrug. 

“Understandable,” Darcy says, though that situation probably would’ve ended up with her and Ian dead. It’s still understandable. “So what about you guys, everything good? World didn’t end while we were shacked up?” 

“No,” Sam says, mouth quirking in amusement. “Not yet, anyway.” 

“I’m not greedy, I’ll settle for ‘not yet’,” Darcy replies reasonably, because she knows to measure her expectations at this point. “Nobody’s dead either, right? I mean, I assume that would’ve come up by now, I’m just being thorough and all.” 

“Nobody we don’t want to be,” Sam says, which: fair. 

“Cool,” Darcy says. “Hey, Sergeant, what’s the verdict on the braiding?” 

“What kind of braid?” Barnes says. 

“Well, I can do a normal one or a normal one,” Darcy says. “So options are fairly limited, there.” 

“Gonna spoil me, Lewis,” Barnes says, tipping his head back to give her a dry look. She resists the impulse to kiss him, if only barely. Still probably a weird time to ask him out, but she’s getting closer and closer to not caring about that. 

“Well, that sounds like exactly what I want to do, actually,” she says. Barnes gives her a blank look, Ian chokes a bit, and Sam muffles a snort. Darcy decides not to see how Steve Rogers is reacting to her dumb come-ons. Again: this is a very weird time for that kind of thing. 

Well, so’s her entire life at this point, so whatever. 

“Just saying,” she says with a shrug, then pulls the brush through Barnes’s hair again. 

“Hm,” he says, frowning faintly. Darcy wants to rub away the furrow in his brow, or maybe just kiss him until it goes away. Like—the kissing thing’s been very tempting in general. 

“I could try a French braid?” she offers. “I used to be . . . well, _semi_ -capable of a French braid. In, like. Middle school.” 

“Just don’t yank it,” Barnes says, straightening up again, and Darcy grins widely. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Sarge,” she says. 

“Well, at least you guys get along,” Sam says. 

“Please, you know _exactly_ how well we get along,” Darcy snorts, separating Barnes’s hair into sections. Unless he _seriously_ wasn’t paying attention while the cameras were running, anyway. “Congratulations, man, you’re good at finding emergency heat partners for super-soldiers.” 

“Never thought that one’d be on my resume, but here we are,” Sam says. 

“I think there are probably weirder things on _everyone_ here’s resume,” Darcy says reasonably. She starts to braid and immediately messes it up and has to start over, because it seriously has been since _middle_ school since she did a French braid, and she makes a face as she concentrates harder for her second try. It goes better, mercifully. “So where’s Dr. Cho? I expected her to be all up in our business about this. No offense, just she was giving me that vibe when she was grilling my entire life story and sexual history out of me.” 

Steve Rogers looks embarrassed. Sam gives him a dry look. It doesn’t take a nuclear physicist. 

“So you won the coin toss, or . . .?” Darcy says, raising an eyebrow at him again. 

“For fuck’s sake, Rogers,” Barnes says in exasperation. “I can handle a few people being in the room.” 

“I’m not sorry,” Steve Rogers says, and clearly isn’t. “She might want to talk to the two of you before you leave, though.” 

“Zero percent surprised,” Darcy says. Presumably she has notes. She’s a scientist and all. 

“Talk to us?” Ian asks, looking worried. Ian could get worried about a sunny day, in Darcy’s experience, so definitely he’s worried about this. 

“I’m sure it won’t take long,” Steve Rogers says, the lying liar. 

“Yeah, okay,” Darcy says anyway, because what, she’s gonna deny Barnes’s actual intended heat partner? Dr. Cho was probably going nuts the whole time; she knows _she_ would’ve been, if someone else had to help out an omega she’d promised to. Like . . . so nuts. So, so nuts. 

Steve Rogers must’ve won one _hell_ of a coin toss to make her wait, Darcy thinks. 

“Are you actually doing a French braid?” Barnes says. 

“Well, trying to,” Darcy says, eyeing her somewhat imperfect results. “I may need to go for a second draft here. Or possibly a third.” 

Barnes snorts—like, as in a laugh, to Darcy’s unabashed delight—and tips his head back to look up at her again. 

“You’re terrible at this,” he says. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Darcy agrees. “No apologies, you knew what you were getting into here.” 

“Sure I did,” Barnes says, giving her a strange look again. She’d call it soft, if she were crazy. He reaches up and tucks a lock of hair she’d missed behind his ear and his bracelets click together gently, and he doesn’t tense up at the sound. 

It’s . . . very nice, honestly. 

“Look, in my defense, you’d look good with a rat’s nest on your head so it’s not like it’s gonna matter that much,” Darcy says, gathering up the missed lock of hair and wanting to kiss him even worse. She’d want to drag him back to bed, normally, but immediately post-heat and all, and he really did wear her out. She’s pretty sure if she went anywhere near a bed right now she’d just pass out on it before she could do anything else. 

“Would I,” Barnes says, though it doesn’t sound exactly like a question. Darcy shrugs. 

“I mean, you’ve seen a mirror before, right?” she says. “Of course you would.” 

“Hm,” Barnes says. Darcy brushes his hair out again to start over. 

“Tip your head forward,” she says, belatedly thinking to add, “Please.” Barnes looks at her for another moment, then does, and she gets back to the braiding. Everybody else watches, which definitely isn’t weird or anything. Really, totally normal, guys. 

Then again, not the _most_ intimate thing she’s been watched doing in the past twenty-four hours, sooo . . . 

“How long are you staying?” Steve Rogers asks. 

“Ask the sergeant here,” Darcy says, mostly concentrating on the braiding process. It definitely requires concentration. “We don’t have any plans.” 

“No meteor shower?” Barnes asks. 

“Making it to the meteor shower is not an imperative goal in my life, no,” Darcy says. “Jane and Erik can handle it without us, they can take their own notes. Or . . . I dunno, record it or something, I don’t actually know what the plan is there.” 

“Probably both,” Ian says. “And measuring some things too.” 

“That does sound like Jane,” Darcy agrees, inspecting the actually respectable braid she’s managed and making a pleased sound to herself before tying it off with Barnes’s hair tie. “Hey, I did it! Not that there was, you know, any doubt that I would. Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” Barnes says dryly, reaching back to tug lightly at the braid. It’s very short, but Darcy thinks it looks pretty good, considering. Also, it’s secure, which is probably more important for an omega like Barnes anyway. “Hm.” 

“I know, I did fantastic. Shoulder,” Darcy says modestly, patting his unscarred shoulder with her free hand. Warning him before touching him unexpectedly has worked out for her so far, so she’s not about to break the habit. “Go me.” 

“It’s good enough,” Barnes says, which is really compliment enough for her, Darcy’s not gonna lie. 

“So you’ll be staying for lunch, then,” Sam says. Darcy probably needs to examine the part of her brain that’s addressing them all differently, but sue her, super-pretty or not Sam is _still_ the approachable one and Steve Rogers is still _Steve Rogers_ and all that that implies. And Barnes, of course, is still a potential minefield that she really doesn’t want to set off. 

“I mean . . . maybe?” Darcy shrugs. “We kind of already did brunch, might not be hungry for a bit. Was that brunch? I’m unclear on the time at this point, I really haven’t been paying attention.” 

“Stay for lunch,” Barnes says, turning his head just enough to not _quite_ look back at them, and Darcy feels warm and _delighted_. 

“Well, if you insist,” she says, excessively pleased. 

“Okay,” Steve Rogers says, watching them intently. Darcy mentally tests out the idea of just calling him “Steve” and is pretty sure it’s going to be impossible. Well, hopefully if she has to refer to him by name she’ll manage it. It’s not gonna be easy if he keeps looking at her like _that_ , though. “I’ll tell Dr. Cho you’ll be here, if that’s alright.” 

“Sure?” Darcy shrugs again, glancing to Ian, who shrugs helplessly himself. “Sure.” 

Steve Rogers and Sam look at each other for a moment, then give them very polite goodbyes and leave. Barnes watches them go, but specifically, of course, is only watching Steve Rogers go. There’s probably a whole mess of complicated emotional stuff in there, but Darcy isn’t gonna be the one to poke that particular hornet’s nest uninvited. Besides, they seem to be handling it., more or less. 

Also she is _not_ the kind of alpha who thinks she can fix every little thing wrong in an omega’s life, and has no intention of acting like one, especially not with an omega in Barnes’s situation. Miss her with that nonsense, thanks. 

“So that went well,” she says conversationally, putting her brush away. “Bet Dr. Cho is gonna be _merciless_.” 

“You think so?” Ian asks, looking anxious. 

“You met her, what do you think?” Darcy says, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“She’s going to be merciless,” Ian says glumly. 

“You can leave if you have to,” Barnes says. He tugs lightly at his braid, looking restless. 

“We survived the grilling when we got here, we’ll survive another one,” Darcy says, shaking her head. “I’m really not hungry again yet, though. Do you actually wanna do lunch, or . . .?” 

“Or what?” Barnes says. 

“No idea, I was kind of hoping you’d have a fill-in option,” Darcy admits. “I am useless in a gym, for the record. I am the _opposite_ of a helpful spotter.” 

“I don’t think a normal human could really spot for a super-soldier anyway,” Ian says. “I mean, it seems unlikely.” 

“I can go after you leave,” Barnes says with a shrug. “What else am I doing with my day?” 

“I have no idea,” Darcy says frankly. “We didn’t really spend much time talking about your hobbies when we were, you know, fucking ourselves stupid.” 

Barnes snorts, giving her an amused look. She grins sheepishly at him. What, it’s true, they didn’t. Unless the dirty talk counted somehow, but it was pretty low-key dirty talk. 

“I’m still sore, for the record,” she says. “So, like, thanks?” 

“You sure about that?” Barnes says wryly. 

“No regrets,” Darcy says breezily, waving him off. It would take a whole _hell_ of a lot to get her regretting heat partnering Barnes, frankly, and she doesn’t know if he’s got it in him. Well, maybe, but no signs of it so far. “That’s something to do, actually. Talking about your hobbies, I mean.” 

“I don’t have hobbies,” Barnes says. 

“Depressing, dude,” Darcy says. “You still _like_ stuff, don’t you?” 

“Not much,” Barnes says, a brief shadow crossing his face. Darcy definitely hates HYDRA. Fuck those guys. Fuck them with a rusty _spork_. No, she doesn’t know if sporks come in metal, but if they do . . . 

“Very depressing,” she says. “But fair, definitely. Do you go out?” 

“No,” Barnes says, which . . . well, pretty understandable. Darcy would also not want to leave the superhero complex if she were in his shoes. Sounds kinda stressful. 

“Anybody introduced you to modern music yet?” Darcy says. 

“Some of it,” Barnes says. “Wilson gave me some names to look up.” 

“Good on him,” Darcy says, though she has no idea what Sam’s taste in music is like. Gotta be better than the sound of sitting alone in silence, though. Also, like, way more motivating in the gym. “You got a computer? Email?” 

“A tablet,” Barnes says, then frowns at her. “Who the hell would email me?” 

“I mean, I could think of some people, probably,” Darcy says. And volunteers. “It’s pretty useful, anyway.” 

“Especially if you, er, aren’t getting out much,” Ian says awkwardly. Barnes snorts again. 

“At all, you mean?” he says. 

“Yeah, that,” Darcy says, pointing at him. “Anyway that was me low-key angling for your contact information, I know it was very subtle and all.” 

Barnes . . . blinks, and tilts his head. 

“Why?” he says, sounding bemused. 

“I dunno,” Darcy says, trying to sound casual herself. “Like, if you need an emergency heat partner again. Or . . . you know, anything in general. Much simpler than waiting for the Falcon to hack one of our computers.” 

“Anything?” Barnes says doubtfully. 

“I wanna ask you out later, I mean. When it’s not invasive and/or distracting,” Darcy says, because she is only capable of so much subtlety and anyway Ian’s seen her do more ridiculous stuff than shooting her shot with a super-soldier. Ian chokes. Barnes . . . blinks, again. “Not _literally_ out, given the circumstances, but there’s alternatives.” 

“Alternatives,” Barnes says. 

“Yeah,” Darcy says with a shrug. “Like, I could bring a movie over and we could watch it. Or we could Netflix and chill.” 

“Darcy!” Ian sputters. Maybe that one would’ve gone over Barnes’s head, Darcy thinks to herself. 

“What’s Netflix?” Barnes asks with a frown. 

“Oh, wow, that’s a tragedy,” Darcy says. “It’s very cool, it’s a streaming thing. Lots of movies and TV on it. Good times.” 

“You might want to wait to ask me out until Cho’s done with you,” Barnes says. “You might change your mind.” 

“I mean, I survived her once, so probably not?” Darcy says, inadvertently perking up. That wasn’t a _no_ , she can’t help but notice. “Also I’m more scared of the Steve Rogers shovel talk than anything else, honestly, I bet that’s _terrifying_.” 

“Yeah, I don’t think you wanna hear it,” Barnes says. 

“I’m willing to sit through it,” Darcy says. “Terrifying or not.” 

“You still might wanna wait,” Barnes says, giving her a sidelong glance. 

“Honestly if it was up to me we’d be getting you an email address right now,” Darcy says. “Assuming you don’t have one already, I mean.” 

“I do,” Barnes says. “It’s empty.” 

“I could fix that?” Darcy says, giving him a sheepish grin. “If you’re cool with that. Or, no pressure, I can just give you mine and you can decide if you wanna talk to me again later.” She figures an email is less presumptuous than a phone call, so . . . 

"I don't understand you," Barnes says, giving her a long look. 

"I get that a lot," Darcy says with a shrug. "I mean it, though, Sergeant, no pressure. I just liked hanging out with you.” 

"That's what you call hanging out?" Barnes says with a snort. 

"Okay, fair," Darcy allows, because heat partnering someone is admittedly not exactly normal hanging out procedure. "I'd like to _try_ hanging out with you, then. With our clothes on, even.” 

“Just you?” Barnes says. 

“I mean, unless you want somebody else there,” Darcy says. “I’m open to other people being there.” 

“Mm,” Barnes says. 

“Alternately, we could hide under a blanket together again,” Darcy suggests, and he huffs out a low laugh. 

“I haven’t stepped out with an alpha in seventy years,” he says. 

“It’s cool, I’ve been dating enough for both of us,” Darcy says easily, hooking her hands together over her knees. “I could get you a resume, probably, I’m very good at breaking up with people on good terms, I’m sure I could get a reference from most of my exes. Like Ian. Ian’s right here, even!” 

“Are you really asking me to vouch for . . . what _are_ you even asking me to vouch for?” Ian says. Darcy shrugs. 

“Beats me,” she says. “The sergeant is the one who gets to ask the questions.” 

“You two dated?” Barnes says skeptically. “But you’re both . . .” 

“They have _really_ not integrated you with the future yet,” Darcy says, making a note to maybe make him some lists of stuff to look up of her own. Assuming they ever talk again, obviously, which she’s really hoping they will. “I’m pansexual. And Ian’s bi.” 

“I have no idea what that means,” Barnes says. 

“Well, the difference between them is a bit, uh, particular,” Ian says. “They’re functionally pretty similar, I guess.” 

“It means we don’t just date reproductively compatible partners, in this case,” Darcy says. “Only dating people you could have pups with is pretty bizarre to me, personally. For one thing, I don’t really want any. At least not anytime soon.” 

Maybe, like, _eventually_ , but she’s not trotting that one out immediately after Barnes just spent the better part of a day dealing with the biological imperative to make some. Her hormones were messed up enough with that, thanks. 

“I think pansexual is being attracted to people regardless of their gender and bisexual is just being attracted to more than one gender,” Ian says. “I _think_.” 

“Huh,” Barnes says. 

“I have a pretty varied list of exes, basically,” Darcy says. “If you actually want references, I mean.” 

“Just give me your damn email address, Lewis,” Barnes says dubiously, and Darcy brightens. 

“That is the nicest thing you’ve said to me all day, Sergeant,” she says, fishing a notebook out of her go-bag to tear a piece of paper out of and carefully print it on. Her handwriting is a bit of a hot mess, usually, but she _really_ doesn’t want Barnes getting confused about any letters or anything, so the extra care seems wise. 

“Are you gonna keep calling me that?” Barnes says. 

“Yeah,” Darcy says, holding the paper out to him. He takes it. “Until you tell me otherwise, anyway.” 

“Mm,” Barnes says. 

“Honestly in my head I’m calling you ‘Barnes’, so whatever works for you I’ll go with,” Darcy says. “Up to you.” 

“Doesn’t really matter,” Barnes says, shrugging his metal shoulder and folding up the paper with careful little gestures, all nice and neat just like how Darcy wrote it. “Anything’s better than ‘the asset’.” 

“HYDRA is seriously shit, huh,” Darcy says with a grimace, and Barnes gives her a wry look. 

“Just a bit,” he says. “I’m not saying I’m going to write you. I’m _definitely_ not saying we’re gonna do something.” 

“That’s cool,” Darcy says, leaning forward in her seat and biting the inside of her cheek. “Just, I’m around if you wanna. And I’m Initiative-vetted and completely non-combat-trained and all, so . . . I dunno if any of that helps?” 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Barnes says, tucking away the paper. He really is _so_ pretty, Darcy thinks. And so sweet, too. Very worth spending brunch with, to say nothing of heat partnering. She hopes he actually emails her. Like—obviously she hopes that, she wouldn’t have _given_ him her email if she wasn’t hoping that, but still. 

She really hopes he does, is all. 

“Anyway,” she says. “Is there anything else we can do for you while we’re here?” 

“Like what?” Barnes says. Darcy shrugs. 

“Want a shoulder rub?” she suggests; he gives her a strange look. “What, that arm can’t be easy on the muscles, you’ve got to be tight as a drum in there. Also, like, it’s an excuse to get my scent on you again, not gonna lie. I’m a fan of that possibility.” 

“I _really_ don’t understand you,” Barnes says. 

“Again, I get that a lot,” Darcy says. “I’m just being honest.” 

“Sure,” Barnes says, giving her a searching look. “Yeah. I guess you are, aren’t you.” 

“I tend to, except when necessary,” Darcy says. “Like, if any SHIELD agents ask who hacked anything of theirs, for example, or if the dean wants to know why the lab’s on fire.” 

“I feel like those aren’t random examples,” Barnes says, his eyebrows raising. 

“They’re not,” Ian mutters. 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Darcy says primly, tossing her hair, and Ian sighs and Barnes laughs under his breath again. The sound makes something in her chest feel tight and warm, and she wants to hear more of it. It makes her feel like his smile did when they were in his heat nest together—like she could do anything, or close to. 

Anything he asked, anyway. 

“Just maybe don’t tell Dr. Cho any of that, okay?” she says, and Barnes smiles. 

Yeah. She could definitely do anything for that. The situation’s complicated, obviously, and no matter how lightly she brought the subject up she knows the idea of going on a date with someone is probably pretty much the last thing on his mind right now, but she isn’t gonna pretend like she’s not interested. Maybe he’ll email her. Maybe he won’t. Maybe she’ll hear from him tonight or in six months or never. 

She really doesn’t care, as long as she knows he’s still capable of smiling like that. 

“Maybe,” Barnes says, turning around and pushing up on his knees to kiss the corner of her mouth, and Darcy’s so surprised she almost doesn’t kiss him back. Oh. Oh, that’s . . . really nice, is what that is, she thinks. 

Yeah, she definitely wants him to email her. 

“Okay,” she says, and he smiles against her mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://suzukiblu.tumblr.com/)


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